The Colours of Their Life
by dragonflybeach
Summary: Drabbles and one shots of their life together, based on colours, for the Colours of the Rainbow Challenge
1. Violet

He made his way through the corridors, lit only by the hand of glory he carried.

Everything around him was pitch black.

If he ever stopped to think about it, which he tried very hard not to but the thoughts just creeped in at the most inconvenient times, he felt pitch black inside too.

He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this. He just wanted to go home to the Manor with just his parents and for the Dark Lord and all of that rot to be a nightmare.

But it wasn't.

He walked back and forth across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times, and waited for the magical doors to appear. He dragged himself through them, as he did most nights.

This time, instead of finding himself in a cavernous cemetery of rubbish, he stood in a small kitchen, with a sitting room visible through an open doorway.

Luna Lovegood stood over the stove.

"What are you doing, Loony?" He roared.

"Hello, Draco." She smiled. "I'm making cocoa. Would you like some?"

"No, I would not like cocoa!" He shouted. "I would like you … "

He stopped himself mid-rant before he could reveal too much of the real reason he was there.

"Fine." He huffed. "I'll take some cocoa."

She gestured toward the sitting room. "It's almost ready. You can go in there and wait and I'll bring it to you."

He stomped through the doorway and flung himself down on the nearest end of the sofa hoping she would hurry up with whatever she was doing and _leave._

A few minutes later, Lovegood placed a tray with two steaming mugs on the low table. There was also a plate of something round and burnt on the edges.

"I tried to make chocolate chip biscuits like my mum used to make." She shrugged. "I ended up making them like my daddy makes. He's not a very good cook, you see."

Draco picked one up, tried to brush off the worst of the black, and took a bite.

It was awful. The cocoa, however, was divine.

"I make it the old fashioned way, melting chocolate into milk." Luna told him from the other end of the couch. "Not the powdered mix and water."

"It's wonderful." He answered honestly.

"It helps me when my mind is racing and I can't sleep." She told him, peering into her cup. "That is why you're here, isn't it? You couldn't sleep, so you came here looking for something interesting since you were already awake?"

"Yeah, something like that." He agreed, not able to tell her the real reason he came to the room.

"I don't blame you, you know." She continued. "For being part of the Inquisitorial Squad. You think you're doing something to make your family proud. You think you're serving the school administration. Sometimes people do the the wrong things for the right reasons, just like sometimes they do the right things for the wrong reasons."

He frowned at her thoughtfully, but she didn't continue the thought.

"Cooking is very much like potions. You have to follow the recipe. Sometimes making little changes can make the end result much, much better, or much, much worse. Like with cocoa. At home, I put a spoonful of Nutella into each cup. I forgot to wish for that when I was walking past the door, so I don't have any here."

"What's Nutella?" He asked.

"It's fantastic." She smiled. "It's like peanut butter, except it's made with chocolate and hazelnuts. You'll have to try it sometime."

"Sounds pretty good." He nodded.

He wasn't sure if it was the cocoa or what, but the anxious tension in his neck and shoulders was beginning to ease.

"I like to experiment with cooking. My father makes plimpy soup. He thinks it's wonderful. It's actually ghastly, but I sneak into the kitchen and add lemon, garlic, and vermouth when he's not looking. It masks the fishy taste. I wonder if he ever cooks it while I'm not there and wonders why it doesn't taste the same."

She prattled on, telling him about the stream near her house where they caught the plimpies, the field where the wildflowers grew in the summer, and the hills she sledded down as a child. He closed his eyes and saw the countryside she described in his mind.

It must have been a combination of the warm milk and her soothing voice, because the next thing he knew, she was gently shaking him.

His eyes fluttered open to find that he was laying on the sofa, with his head in her lap.

"You'd better head back to your dorm now." She smiled. "It's just dawn."

"How can you tell?" He frowned, sitting up. "There aren't any windows in here."

"I just know." She shrugged. "I like this time of the morning. The light and the dark come together to make something beautiful. Like the cocoa. You mix the white milk and the dark chocolate, and it tastes better than either of them alone. I think people are like that too. It takes a combination of light and dark to make them what they should be."

She picked up her bag and walked toward the door. "Goodbye Draco." She called without looking back.

He waited several minutes, so that if anyone were watching, hopefully he wouldn't be seen leaving with her.

He paused on the fifth floor to look out the window, where the sun was just peeking above the horizon. The very edge of the earth was golden, with shades of orange and red extending up into the still violet night sky.

Maybe that's what color his soul was.

Violet.


	2. Indigo

"Draco, I have a question." She informed him when he brought dinner to the cellar.

"Don't you always?" He rolled his eyes.

"Why is there such a nice bedroom in the dungeon?" She asked.

"What?" He frowned.

"Your Aunt Bella took me to a lovely bedchamber down the hall. It had navy blue curtains on the bed. Very masculine looking. But it was very regal for a bedroom in the dungeon." She replied.

"Indigo." He muttered. "The curtains are indigo. They're antique silk, imported from Persia hundreds of years ago by one of my ancestors. He had the royal family convinced that he was sailing to Persia and India on their behalf at great personal risk. He actually just apparated over there and back."

"But why are they in the dungeon?" Luna repeated. "Who did they keep prisoner, the muggle king?"

"No one was a prisoner down here." Draco shook his head. "This room was actually the artillery room. The bedroom you saw for for visiting priests. If you continue further down the hall, there is a staircase that leads up into the west wing. At the top of the staircase is a chapel. A lot of the royalty traveled with clergy in their party, so the Malfoy family was always ready to accommodate them. The prison cells were actually in the east tower. There are a couple oubliettes there. Be thankful the Dark Lord doesn't know about them."

"This part of the house isn't made of the same materials as the rest." She studied the wall beside her in the faint light from his wand.

"No." He pointed at the wall. "The facades of the house are made of limestone, but the foundation is granite."

"It's really beautiful. Candlelight makes the dark markings sparkle. In indigo." She trailed her fingers down the stone wall.

"Indigo is the color of the ajna chakra." She turned and placed her thumbs on his forehead, just above the inner ends of his eyebrows. She gently massaged the area, and Draco was too shocked to back away. "Yours is terribly out of balance. That's why you don't sleep properly and you don't trust your inner guidance. Maybe you should spend more time in that room."

As suddenly as she had spoken, she fell silent, turning to see what he had brought for their dinner.

"Oh look, Mr. Ollivander. We have beef broth again. Have I ever told you about my father's plimpy soup?"

Draco, feeling rather dismissed, slowly walked back up the stairs.


	3. Blue

The battle was over.

The three Malfoys huddled in one corner of the Great Hall, thankful they were all still together and not sure of much else.

More and more survivors who had been fighting in various places around the grounds trickled in, most giving the trio of blonds a death glare.

Draco pushed up from the table, murmured to his parents that he would be back, and walked out into the ruins of the courtyard.

Debris and bodies of the fallen littered the ground. The castle, in daylight, looked even worse than it had last night. Most of the windows had been blown out and large chunks of wall were missing.

He made his way across the concourse carefully, until he reached a corner in the balustrade that was relatively intact and uncluttered. He sat down with his back in the corner and looked up at the clear blue sky.

All the times he had laid in his bed and wished the war was over, he thought his heavy heart would feel free, like it could float right up to that blue sky.

Instead, he just felt ... nothing. And everything. All at once.

Tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

He didn't even know why he was crying, except that it was _over._

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the sky and weeping, but at some point, another person sat beside him and laid a head against his shoulder.

He looked over and found his nose buried in wildly tangled curly blonde hair.

"What do you want, Lovegood?" He intended to snap at her, but the words came out tired and defeated instead.

"Nothing." She looped an arm through one of his. "I just came to help you cry."

At the moment, he couldn't think of a reason for her not to, so they sat there and cried together, not speaking to one another, until the Aurors stood over them and asked Draco to come with them.


	4. Green

Slytherin house was decimated by the war. Far too many of their alumni had taken their place with the Dark Lord, and been killed or imprisoned after his fall.

The remainder, no matter what side they had chosen, seemed branded by the Sorting Hat's choice for them.

For that reason, Narcissa Malfoy had chosen to throw a ball. She spent weeks poring over old Hogwarts yearbooks, and had invited nearly every living notable Slytherin. Draco was surprised as to how many were now Aurors. They were asked to wear something green, to proclaim their house pride.

Then she invited as many non-Slytherin VIPs as possible so the two groups could rub elbows and realize that the Slytherins were not simply waiting to catch someone alone and slit his throat.

At least that had been her plan.

At the moment, it didn't seem to be going very well.

The room was divided, with Slytherins mingling on one side, and everyone else on the other. Despite Celestina Warbeck herself singing, very few couples were dancing.

Draco caught sight of his date across the hall, where she had gone to speak to Ginny Weasley, soon to be Ginny Potter.

It wasn't a ginger she currently spoke with.

A twinkling eye can mean many things. The one that was twinkling at him right now said "A little help here, please?"

Draco walked over to his girlfriend in time to hear McLaggen say "That dress is very becoming on you. If I were on you I'd be coming too."

As if the idiot hadn't been pompous and self-inflated enough at Hogwarts, after school he had become a model for Twilfit and Tatting, posing in the newest robes in their fall catalogue. He had moved on from there to romance novel covers, and according to some sources, had appeared in muggle television commercials and was pursuing a film career.

At the moment, however, he was pursuing Luna, and Draco didn't like it.

"Hello, love." He greeted his girlfriend with a kiss on the lips, smirking at the interloper. "I was just looking for you. Care to dance?"

She smiled gratefully at Draco.

McLaggen, however, wasn't finished.

"I was just having a lovely chat with this young lady, Mr. Malfoy. Don't rush her off. Are you afraid she might enjoy my company more than yours?" McLaggen raised one eyebrow, giving a smile that was cold and false. "One night with me, and they'll be calling her Moaning Myrtle."

"Actually, she's more of a screamer." Draco didn't shy from the challenge.

"I'm sure. That's what Death Eaters like, isn't it?" McLaggen taunted. "Did you have contests to see who could make her scream the loudest?"

Draco's wand was out and McLaggen was doubled over before anyone could blink.

"No, but if you don't leave now you'll end up squealing like a pig, and that wouldn't be very flattering in front of your _fans,_ now would it?" Draco spat at him.

They were instantly surrounded by Aurors, lead by Trainee-Who-Thinks-He-Runs-The-Place Potter.

"What's going on here?" someone asked.

"He's mad! And dangerous!" McLaggen choked out, pointing at Draco. "He attacked me for talking to his girlfriend."

"He attacked you for things you said about me." Luna defended.

"Who are you going to believe?" McLaggen demanded, now playing to his audience. "Me, or the Death Eater and the Death Eater whore?"

Dean Thomas punched the model in the mouth. "You're a disgrace to Gryffindor." He snorted.

"What is it with your house, Potter?" Draco asked. "First Pettigrew. Now ... this."

Everyone looked at everyone else for a long, tense moment.

Then Kingsley Shacklebolt started laughing.

"He's got a point, you know." The Minister turned to Potter.

"Mr. McLaggen, I think you should leave." Chief Auror Robards, a Ravenclaw himself, announced. "Miss Lovegood, are you all right?"

Luna nodded and slipped her arm through Draco's. "We're fine, if Mr. McLaggen will just leave us alone."

"Come by the office tomorrow, and we can fill out a no contact order against him." The Auror told them as the crowd broke dispersed, some headed toward the food, and some toward the dance floor.

More Slytherins stood around talking to people who weren't wearing green.

Draco spun Luna onto the dance floor.

"I've heard that you're the heir of a Slytherin, so how about you visit my chamber of secrets tonight?" She whispered in his ear.

Draco just laughed.


	5. yellow

Draco watched out the window as Luna frolicked in the sunshine and the field of yellow wildflowers.

He had never described what anyone did as "frolick" before, he wasn't 100% certain what the word really meant, but he couldn't think of a better term to describe Luna's play in the meadow at the moment.

He watched her from inside her father's house, in the printing room on the ground level, where there was only one window. He felt more comfortable here, than in the sitting room flooded with light and cushions and pictures of birds that sang, or in her bedroom, where she had painted her friends on the ceiling and he wasn't included.

She was outside basking in the sunshine, and he was in the cold, dark, unforgiving, stone house.

In more ways than one.

For that very reason he had been carrying a ring in his pocket for nearly two weeks afraid to give it to her.

Afraid that it would only be a matter of time before she realized that she didn't belong in his cold, dark, hard world.

She turned toward the house, and gestured for him to come to her.

Except there's no way she could have seen him, could have known he was there.

But she just did.

He went out to join her, his heart soaring.

This was where he belonged.

Not in the black stone of the Rook House, not in Luna's bedroom, not even in the equally cold, but austerely elegant Malfoy Manor.

He belonged with Luna.


	6. orange

"Malfoy. Luna." Potter shook Draco's hand and kissed Luna's cheek. "Everyone is in the sitting room. Go on in, but make sure you shut the door behind you. It keeps the toddlers from wandering off. I've got to help Ginny bring a few things from the kitchen and I'll be right there."

Luna elbowed Draco sharply.

"Do you need help?" He obediently asked their host.

"Oh, no, it's fine." Potter assured them. "She could probably get it by herself, but she's ... "

"Not going to?" Draco offered.

"Yeah." Potter nodded, heading for the kitchen.

Draco turned the knob and opened the door. To his horror, he saw an absolute sea of orange.

He didn't know there were this many gingers in all of Europe, much less in one family. All the siblings were there, and apparently a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

The Weasleys had what, eight or ten children? If each of them had eight children, and so on, within three or four generations, they could start their own nation.

He was shaken from his musings on Weaslia by another sharp elbow from Luna.

He looked around the crowded room and noticed his mother motioning to two empty seats next to her. He made a mental note to ask when she started being invited to Weasley family parties.

He told Luna to head that way while he spoke with the expectant father. He made his way to where the men had congregated in one corner.

Shaking Percy's hand, Draco remarked "I've never known of men to attend baby showers before."

"It's something my mother started." Weasel ... Ron shrugged. "Of course, Percy's kind of required to be here. I'm here because I want to continue being in Mum's good graces. Christmas is coming soon, you know."

Two of his brothers nodded.

"I'm here because my wife says I have to be." Dean Thomas grimaced, looking toward Padma.

"I came to keep Harry company." Oliver Wood informed the group. "I didn't know the lot of you would be here."

"I was tricked." Ernie McMillan shrugged. "The next time a girl asks me to accompany her to a 'family function', I'll know to ask more questions."

"I have no idea why I'm here." Longbottom answered honestly.

"Muggle ale?" Wood offered, holding a bottle toward Draco. "It's pretty good, once you get used to it. And it's the strongest thing Ginny would let Harry serve."

Draco murmured a thank you and took the drink.

"Everyone! Everyone!" Molly Weasley shouted over the din. "Find your seats! We're going to play some games before we have our refreshments."

Draco caught Potter's eye roll before the host turned his head.

Draco took the seat beside his mother. Somehow Luna ended up a third of the way around the room, between Padma and the former Gryffindor Quidditch player who married the surviving twin.

He made a mental note to study beforehand if he was ever invited to another one of these functions.

First off, everyone was given three wooden clothespins which they were to clip onto their garments. They were informed the word 'baby' was now taboo, and if anyone said it, the first person to call them out got one of the offender's clothespins. The person with the most pins at the end of the party was the winner.

Next, everyone was given a list of scrambled baby-related words, and the first person to unscramble them all correctly was the winner. Narcissa won. Even seeing her answers, Draco still had no idea what half of those things were.

"Now I know everyone must be parched, so we'll all have a nice cuppa before we go any further." Mrs. Weasley announced.

Enchanted trays floated around the room, hovering long enough each person could take a cup. One paused in front of Draco.

"No, I have the ale. I'm good." He informed the tray, which had only two cups left.

"Draco, take a cup of tea. It's part of the game." His mother informed him exasperatedly.

"What game?" He frowned.

"You'll see." She rolled her eyes, and then catching sight of the tray, she suddenly leaned across Draco, taking the cup farthest from her, leaving him to take the last one.

"Is anyone missing a spoon?" He asked the room at large. "I seem to have two."

There were squeals and cheers from most of the females in the room. Molly and Narcissa actually high-fived one another.

Draco wondered if he could politely excuse himself and find study material on baby showers for _this_ party.

A blonde lady with a French accent sitting next to him explained. "Whoever gets the cup with two spoons will be the next to have a baby."

"Well then, it's a good thing that I can't ... " He began.

Daphne Greengrass leaned over about four people to smack Draco on the head. "Not you, silly! Your wife!"

Draco's wondering on what Daphne was doing there was interrupted by an exclamation from Luna.

"How did it know?" she asked.

The whole sea of orange turned to face her and the room fell completely silent.

Ginny was the first to catch on.

Well, after Draco, who was so shocked he couldn't even breathe.

"Congratulations!" The ginger threw her arms around her friend. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're going to have a baby?" Draco asked, his face paler than normal.

"Pin!" One of the Weasley brothers shouted triumphantly.

Draco unclipped a clothespin and held it in the general direction, not breaking eye contact with Luna.

"Yes." She whispered, nodding.

"Why didn't you tell _me?"_ He demanded. "I have to find out my wife is having a baby at someone else's baby shower with every ginger person in the Northern Hemisphere?"

There were multiple shouts of "Pin!" around the room. Draco unclipped the other two and tossed them into the air, letting the rabid partygoers scramble for them like pinata candy.

"I was going to tell you tonight, after the shower." She answered softly. "It seemed like a good time ... "

"To a woman, this might seem like a good time to announce a pregnancy. To a man ... " Draco shook his head. "I was thinking we should stop by the apothecary for more birth control potion on the way home."

His mother smacked him this time. "You are horrid, Draco Malfoy! Apologize to your poor wife at once!"

Instead, he shook his head again and stomped from the room. He walked out the front door and sat on the step, his head in his hands.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Luna sat beside him.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, slipping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. "I should have told you about the baby the moment I found out."

"How long have you known?" He asked with a sigh.

"Only since yesterday, for certain. I suspected for a week, but I kept thinking, no, I couldn't be. We were trying no to." She snuggled into his side. "I wasn't exactly ready for this either."

"I don't think I'll be ready ever." He snorted. "I'm going to be a terrible father."

"No, you won't." She promised him. "You are nothing like your father, and even he could have been worse. Look at poor Theo's father. At least your father loved you the best he knew how. You're going to be a better father to our baby than your father was to you. Just the fact that you're worried about it tells me that you will try with everything in you to be a good father."

"What if the child doesn't like me?" He continued.

She laughed. "Draco, you worry too much. Of course he will love you. Babies aren't born with prejudices and stereotypes. They love the people who love them, and fear the people who give them reason to be afraid. When you hold him, he'll feel safe and protected. He'll love his daddy very much."

"He?" Draco questioned.

"Just a feeling I have." She shrugged. "Are you ready to go back inside?"

"Yes, and you owe me all three of your clothespins." He smirked. "I am back in the game."


	7. red

The argument had gone on for seven months.

Luna told him that women had given birth to babies at home for thousands of years.

Draco retorted that was why hospitals had been invented.

Luna said that he was overly complicating a simple process that women had been doing since the beginning of time.

Draco reminded her that his paternal grandmother died in childbirth.

In the end, the decision was made for them.

Her water broke just after lunch. The contractions started an hour or so later.

Luna told Draco they had plenty of time. It was their first baby, after all, and first babies take their time.

He went upstairs to pack the bag that Luna had stubbornly refused to pack, positive that when the pains were severe enough, he would be able to convince her to go to St Mungo's.

He turned when the door opened.

"Draco, I think something is wrong." She said.

Her pink stretchy maternity pants that he had made fun of so often were more red than pink.

He leaped across the room in time to catch her as she pitched forward.

"Luna, please wake up." He pleaded. He patted her cheek, but there was no flutter of her eyelids. "If you just wake up, Luna, I swear I'll never even mention that I was right."

Her face was white, her lips nearly blue, in contrast to the crimson that was spreading across the floor so rapidly he could see it moving.

"Dimpy!" He bellowed for a house elf, who apparated them both to St Mungo's.

They landed in the middle of the labour and delivery ward. Fortunately, there was a healer standing at the nursing desk who immediately ran to Draco's side and began shouting orders.

As the mediwitches and orderlies levitated Luna onto the summoned stretcher and rushed her off down the hall, the healer turned to her husband.

"If we have to make a choice ... "

"Save my wife." Draco answered without hesitation.

The healer nodded, then ran down the hall after the rest.

He ended up in a small waiting room, not quite sure how he had gotten there. Sometime later, his parents joined him, and a few minutes after that, Luna's father and Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Narcissa and Mrs. Weasley sat on either side of Draco, murmuring that everything would be fine. Luna's father stared at the floor. Mr. Weasley paced. Lucius stood in the doorway and harassed every employee who passed by.

All the medi-witches could tell the group was that Luna was being treated, and the healer would let them know something as soon as he could.

Two hours later, a faint wail in the hallway grew progressively louder, until the healer stood in the doorway holding a blanket wrapped bundle.

"Mr. Malfoy, you have a fine son. Seven pounds, two ounces. Nineteen inches long. Great set of lungs, obviously."

Lucius and Molly shoved forward, squabbling for the first view of the baby.

Draco seemed to fold in on himself. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head into his hands.

"I told you to save _her."_ He moaned.

The healer knelt in front of the new father. "Mr. Malfoy, she's all right. It's going to take a little time and a lot of blood replenishing potion, but your wife will make a full recovery. She will even be able to have more children. She probably won't want to any time soon, but when the time comes ... "

Draco looked up, his eyes shining with tears. "Thank you." He whispered.

"That's why we're here." The healer nodded. "Now," He pushed the still squalling baby into his father's arms. "You and baby boy here get acquainted, and as soon as the assistants have her cleaned up, you can see your wife."

"Scorpius." Draco breathed, looking down into his son's face for the first time.

The baby stopped crying, and looked at his father curiously, tilting his head.

This was definitely Luna's baby.

The grandparents and honorary grandparents all crowded around, trying to see.

Lucius slipped something into the baby's hand. "A galleon. For good luck."

"I thought you were supposed to hand them a knut." Arthur Weasley frowned.

"I gave Draco one when he was a newborn. He put it straight in his mouth and nearly choked on the damn thing." Lucius shook his head, causing his hair to shimmer around his shoulders.

"I can't really tell who he looks like." Narcissa fretted.

"He's a baby. They all somewhat look alike." Xeno informed her.

"Talk to him!" Molly nudged Draco.

He frowned at her, but turned back to his son. "Hey Scorpius. I'm Daddy."

The baby squirmed, but didn't cry or fret. Draco took that as a good sign.

"Hello, little one. I'm your Grandpa." Xeno introduced himself.

The baby began to cry again.

Draco cuddled him closer, with some prompting and instruction from Narcissa, and little Scorpius felt silent again.

Draco held his son quietly, studying him carefully. Their baby was perfect.

A medi-witch came in, and told Draco that Luna was resting, but he could see her for a moment. Narcissa reached for the baby, but Draco stubbornly took his child with him.

The lights were dimmed in the room, and Luna lay very still, but at least some of her color had returned. Draco laid Scorpius beside her, holding her hand in his own so that both of them were holding their baby.

"Thank you, Luna." He whispered. "I love you."

With his free hand, he took his wand and charmed the box of tissues on the bedside table into a heart shaped wreath of red roses.

Like his heart that she, and now Scorpius, owned.


End file.
